


Harry Potter and the Infant’s Cry

by Laura_Parker



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adopted Teddy Lupin, Cute Teddy Lupin, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Harry Potter Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Harry Potter Raises Teddy Lupin, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter Friendship, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Hurt/Comfort, Parenthood, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-09-07 22:11:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20316823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura_Parker/pseuds/Laura_Parker
Summary: Harry Potter knows better than anybody just how difficult life can be growing up without your parents. So, naturally, when his godson Teddy meets the same fate, he doesn’t have to think twice before taking the baby in as his own. But, as Harry will soon discover, becoming a parent at seventeen years old is no easy task.Struggling to cope with the trauma of the recent war, Harry is barely in a fit state to care for himself, yet alone be responsible for another human life. If you take a severely traumatised, hormonal teenager and throw being a parent into the mix, you have the perfect recipe for disaster.All Harry wants is to be there for Teddy like no one was for him - but will he be able to sort out his own demons before he loses his godson forever?





	1. The McGonagall Situation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I’ve been an avid fanfic reader for a good five years or so now, but this is the first fic that I have ever decided to just go for it and actually post online, so I’ll admit to being slightly nervous. Anyway, I have enjoyed writing this chapter, so I hope that maybe you will also enjoy reading it.

Harry awoke to the feeling of soft sunlight gently warming his skin. Keeping his eyes closed, he lay there for a minute, perhaps two, simply enjoying the calmness and peace the warmth of the sun brought him. Birds chirped away merrily in the distance, and there was a cool, but refreshing breeze blowing against him every few seconds. Still slightly dazed from his sleep, he wasn’t yet sure where he was, although his surroundings felt comfortable and familiar. He couldn’t explain why, but he felt almost nostalgic. It was as though he had experienced this wonderful feeling before. Just not for a long, long time. 

Where was he again? And how did he get there?

The more Harry tried to search his brain for answers, the more confused he became. It was at that point that he decided to open his eyes and take a look at where he was. To his surprise, he opened them to find himself looking up at what appeared to be some sort of scarlet fabric.

_I’ve seen that before somewhere, _ he thought to himself. But _ where _had he seen it before? Something about the fabric felt incredibly familiar, yet in his complete confusion, he was unable to place it.

“Harry? Harry, are you finally awake?”

Harry recognised the voice immediately, and hearing it put him at ease at once. Finally, something he _ did _recognise. The voice belonged to Hermione. Harry turned his head to find where it was coming from. It was then that he saw her, sat on a bed a few feet to his right. 

_Wait a second, _ thought Harry, _ isn’t that Ron’s bed that she’s sat on?_

It was then that it occurred to him. He finally realised where he was. He was in Gryffindor Tower. In the very bed that he had spent six years of his life sleeping in. The scarlet fabric had felt familiar because he had been looking at the curtains of his _ own bed_. 

Harry chuckled to himself. How could he possibly have forgotten that?

“What’s so funny?” asked Hermione, but before Harry even had a chance to reply, she had already moved on.

“I was actually just about to wake you up,” she said. “Look, Harry, I know that you’re exhausted, and I didn’t want to wake you up. I know you need the sleep. But you really need to come down at some point. You’ve been asleep for _ eighteen hours. _People have been asking me where you’ve been.”

For a split second, Harry wasn’t sure what she meant. “What people — oh.”

In a sudden and intense flashback, the memories of the previous night hit him like a truck. The death-eaters attacking Hogwarts and practically destroying it. The students bravely fighting back. Lupin’s death. Fred’s death. Voldemort’s death. His _ own _death.

He wasn’t sure how to feel. When he had finally left the Great Hall and made his way up to Gryffindor Tower at some point the previous afternoon, he had mainly felt relieved that it was all finally over, despite the horrors of everything that had happened. Voldemort was dead. They had done it. They had won. 

But now, it was a whole day later. And the reality was starting to hit him. 

Yes, the war was over, and yes, Voldemort was gone (hopefully for good this time). But the entire wizarding world had been devastated in the process. _ How many were dead? _ Harry wondered. Fred, Remus, Tonks - they were just the tip of the iceberg. There must have been hundreds. Hundreds of lives lost, and it was all his fault. _ All _his fault.

Harry thought of his godson, Teddy, and suddenly felt an overwhelming wave of anger come crashing over him. Teddy was now in the same situation as Harry himself had been all those years ago; orphaned at the hands of Voldemort and his followers. It was tragic. In the space of one night, that poor baby’s life had been forever changed, and the poor kid didn’t even have a clue yet. Harry knew better than anybody just how devastating this would be for Teddy over the years to come. When you are finally old enough to truly understand it, the realisation that you will never get to hold your mother’s hand or kiss her goodnight is a difficult pill to swallow. 

“Are you alright Harry? What’s the matter?” 

Once again, Hermione’s voice brought him back to reality, awakening him from his trance of rage.

“Nothing,” he replied quickly. “Nothing, I’m fine.”

Hermione gave him her usual concerned look, but decided not to question him any further. “Come on,” she said. “You need to get up.”

Harry sat up in his bed, a million questions racing through his head. “I’ve been asleep for _ eighteen hours_?” he asked.

Hermione nodded. “Yep. Eighteen hours.”

Harry knew it was really bad that he had slept for so ridiculously long when he should have been downstairs helping out, but at the same time he had almost impressed himself. That _ had _to be a record for the most sleep he’d ever got in one go. 

“What have I missed? Is everyone still here?”

“Most people have gone home to be with their families… well, those that are _ lucky _ enough to have made it home anyway.” Hermione broke eye contact with Harry and looked down at the floor. For a second he thought she was going to start crying. “All of the wounded have been transferred to St Mungo’s by now. There are still some people here though. Some people stayed behind to help start cleaning up all the mess.”

“What about Ron? Where’s he?”

“The Weasley’s have all gone back to the burrow. Molly felt terrible leaving without you, but they’ve got a lot to deal with after… well, you know... and Arthur felt it would be best if they all went home to start mourning properly.”

Although Hermione couldn’t bring herself to say it, Harry knew exactly what, or rather _ who, _she was referring to. The loss of Fred was something that Harry didn’t think he, who was merely a family friend, would ever be able to get over. He could only imagine how much worse the pain must be for Fred’s actual family.

The two friends sat in silence for what, to Harry, felt like hours. After six and a half years of knowing each other, and months spent living together in a tent, the two had grown used to the awkward silences and no longer felt uncomfortable within them. This silence, however, was different. It was not awkward as such, just sad and empty, perhaps almost eerie. And Harry didn’t like it at all.

Fortunately, Hermione seemed to be feeling equally as uncomfortable, and she broke the silence before he was forced to do so himself. “Anyway,” she muttered, turning her head back to him. “You need to get up and dressed. I’ve left some clean clothes out for you at the end of your bed. I’ll wait just outside for you.”

“No, it’s okay,” Harry replied. “You head down to the Great Hall. I’ll catch you up.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind waiting for you. Wouldn’t you find it easier if we went down together? Then you wouldn’t have to face everyone alone.”

“No. Seriously, Hermione, it’s okay. I don’t need to be babysat. Besides, I need some space to... you know... clear my head.”

For a second, Harry started to become annoyed with her. He didn’t need her to escort him downstairs. Nothing irritated him more than being babied. But then, he reminded himself that she was only trying to look out for him. It was just the way Hermione was; constantly worrying about him. He knew that she was just being a good friend, and he felt bad for nearly snapping at her. Nevertheless, at that particular moment, Harry just wanted to be left alone. 

Hermione seemed to understand this, as she gave him a small, half-hearted smile and stood up from the bed. She had just about made it to the door when she suddenly stopped and turned her head back to Harry with a strange look on her face. She seemed to have just remembered something important. 

“I almost forgot,” she said. “McGonagall was looking for you.”

“What do you mean?” Harry replied. “What did she want?”

Hermione shrugged. “I don’t know. But whatever it was, it sounded important. She’s been constantly pestering me, asking when you’re finally going to make a reappearance. She looked pretty stressed, but - I mean - that’s probably just because of everything that’s happened, right?”

“Yeah,” said Harry. “It’s probably nothing to worry about.” 

But in reality, Harry _ was _ worried. McGonagall wasn’t the type to stress pointlessly over little things. If Hermione thought she looked concerned, _ something _ must have been wrong. But what did it have to do with him? Why was she so desperate to speak to him? 

A million possibilities ran through his head. Were they wrong? Had they not managed to kill Voldemort after all? The amount of times that guy had found a way to come back to life, Harry would not have been surprised. Devastated, yes. But not surprised. 

Or perhaps it was something more minor. Perhaps the Daily Prophet had published some kind of misinformation or lies about the whole thing. Perhaps they were going to blame Harry for all the deaths and damage. _ They wouldn’t be wrong there, _ Harry thought. This _ was _all his fault, after all. 

No. It couldn’t have been either of those things. If the Prophet had been back at it with the lies again, Hermione would’ve known and she would’ve told him about it. And if Voldemort had indeed survived somehow, somebody would obviously have come and woken him up, not allowed him to lie in for eighteen hours. So what could it be? 

Harry was still pondering that question by the time he had got up, got dressed and made it halfway across the castle to the Great Hall. It took him much longer than normal to reach his destination; nearly half an hour, to be exact. In the past, he had already found it difficult enough to navigate his way through the maze of corridors and staircases that was Hogwarts, but today, it was an utter nightmare. 

Every other corridor, it seemed, was blocked, completely buried in rubble and debris. In most of them, Harry was just about able to climb his way through it all, but in others, the damage to the once beautiful castle was so severe that he was forced to simply give up and take a different route. Eventually however, he reached his destination, and found himself standing awkwardly in the huge doorway of the Great Hall. A dozen pairs of eyes all turned to stare at him.

Uncomfortable with the way everyone was watching him, Harry scanned the room for Hermione as fast as he could. Luckily, the hall was not too crowded and he was able to locate her pretty quickly. However, his heart sank when he realised that she was not alone. At this moment in time, the last thing he wanted was to face anyone else. What the hell was he thinking, coming down here? He should have just stayed upstairs, in the safety of his bed.

The boy she was with was dark-haired and looked familiar, although Harry couldn’t quite tell who it was as the boy had his back to him. Nevertheless, he started to shuffle towards the pair, making an extra effort to keep his head down and avoid eye contact with any of the many excited spectators. As usual though, his attempt to avoid attracting attention to himself failed miserably. 

“Harry! You’re back!”

“Well done Harry, you absolute legend! I can’t believe you actually killed him!”

“Mark my words, Mr Potter, you’re going to go down in history!”

It was like being hit by a tsunami. Waves and waves of people came gushing towards him, all shouting his name, patting him on the back, giving him hugs. He felt himself starting to panic. What on earth was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say? He felt light-headed, like he wasn’t really there. It was as though it was all just some really awful dream from which he could not wake up.

Part of him was saying to get a grip of himself. These people were just being kind and trying to congratulate him. He had, after all, technically just defeated the world’s most evil wizard and put a stop to the Second Wizarding War. If he were them, he would probably want to congratulate himself too. Yet the other part of him knew that he didn’t deserve it. If he, Harry Potter, had never been the ‘chosen one’, this horrific battle would never have happened, and so many people would still be alive. So, so many people.

He tried to think of something good to say, but in his sheer embarrassment, he was only able to manage a timid and barely audible ‘thank you’. He glanced to the other end of the hall where Hermione and the dark-haired boy had been, willing her to do something, to come and rescue him. Fortunately, the two had obviously heard all the commotion and were now making their way over to join the crowd. Now that he was facing the right direction, Harry was finally able to identify the boy. He was relieved and pleasantly surprised to see that it was just his good friend, Neville Longbottom. 

“Alright, alright! Everybody give the poor man some space!” Neville shouted, gesturing for the crowd to move back. Despite their excitement, the crowd were relatively compliant and did as they were told, stepping back a few metres each so that Harry now remained standing awkwardly in the middle of an empty circle. 

Now that he had cleared some space, Neville was pushing his way through the group towards Harry and when he got there, he opened his arms to greet him with a hug.

“How are you doing, Harry?” Neville asked, quietly enough so that nobody else could hear. 

Harry wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Should he tell Neville the truth - that he wasn’t fine - or was it simply better to just pretend everything was great? _ The second one, _Harry thought immediately. 

“Pretty good, actually,” he replied, knowing that it was a blatant lie. “Yeah, now that I’ve had that eighteen hour sleep, I’m feeling pretty good.”

Neville laughed. “Yeah, eighteen hours was a pretty good effort! Anyway, er, has Hermione told you about the, er... the situation with McGonagall.”

Harry’s ears pricked up immediately. So Neville was also aware that McGonagall was looking for him. What the hell was going on here?

“Yeah she mentioned something about it,” Harry said. “Do you know what’s going on?”

“No, sorry,” he replied. Harry sighed in disappointment. He needed to know what was going on, and now! “But I think you better go and find her pretty soon. She’s pretty desperate to talk to you.”

But Harry didn’t have to go and find her. Almost the very second Neville finished talking, she appeared herself. 

“Ah, what have we here? Look who’s finally made a reappearance!” she exclaimed, an irritated look on her face. “Welcome back, Mr Potter, so helpful of you to bless us with your presence at last!” 

Harry was so taken aback by her blatantly sarcastic tone that he took several seconds to respond. “I - er - sorry. I overslept. I didn’t mean to.”

McGonagall scowled. “Well,” she said. “Now that you are finally here, you need to come with me. We have a situation that we need to discuss. In private,” she added. “Although you are welcome to join us as well, Miss Granger.”

Harry looked at Hermione for any sign that she knew what was going on, but she simply shrugged her shoulders, evidently equally as confused as him. “Um, okay,” he said, turning back to McGonagall. “Where do you want to go then?”

“My office will do,” she replied, and without further ado, she turned to the door and left the room, leaving Harry, Hermione and several dozen nosey spectators all standing there in a confused silence.

Harry hesitated for a moment. He was so busy being both mortified by McGonagall’s very public display of frustration with him, and also having his brain frantically run through millions of possibilities as to what on earth this whole thing could possibly be about, that for a second, his legs seemed to have forgotten how to move. As always though, he had Hermione there to nudge him gently and bring him back to the present. 

“Well then,” she mumbled into his ear, just quietly enough to avoid being overheard by the eagerly listening crowd. “I guess we better follow her.”

* * *

Harry was surprised to find that it wasn’t McGonagall’s office they ended up in, but Dumbledore’s. For a brief second, he was confused and thought he must have misheard her back in the Great Hall, but it didn’t take long for him to put two and two together. Snape, the previous headmaster, was now dead, meaning a replacement would have to come from somewhere, and McGonagall had now referred to the headmaster’s office as ‘hers’. That could only mean one of two things: one, that this room no longer served as the headmaster’s office, or two, that _ McGonagall _ was now headmistress of Hogwarts! 

Logically, it made sense. During Harry’s six years at the school, she had served as both head of Gryffindor house and deputy headmistress of the school as a whole. Naturally, she would be the next in line to take over after Dumbledore. She _ should _have taken over after Dumbledore, had it not been for Snape. But with Snape gone, she could now take up her rightful role. Harry wasn’t sure how he felt about that - he was happy for her, of course - but at the same time he struggled to imagine anybody other than Dumbledore occupying this room. Struggled to imagine anyone else sitting in the head chair of the Great Hall during feasts as Dumbledore had done.

Once she had shepherded the two bemused teenagers inside and shut the door carefully behind them, McGonagall gestured over towards the desk. 

“Right then, Potter. Miss Granger. You might both want to sit down.”

Harry did as he was told without questioning, taking one of the two seats situated in front of the large oak desk. Hermione followed, sitting down to his left, and last but not least, they were joined by McGonagall, who made herself comfortable on the other side of the table, in the grandest chair of the three. _ Dumbledore’s _chair.

He waited for her to speak, anticipating the moment when she would finally tell him what was going on and he would no longer be left in the dark. It was at the point now where he just wanted the truth, even if that truth was not what he wanted to hear. If his theories were correct and there _ was _ something they had missed, if the war _ wasn’t _really over, he just wanted to know. He was sick of all this suspense bullshit. In fact, Harry was so busy waiting for some sort of big reveal to be dropped that McGonagall’s next words came as a complete surprise. 

“First of all, Potter, I would just like to apologise.”

Harry wasn’t sure what she meant. “Apologise, Professor? What for?”

McGonagall looked back at him with a look of confusion rivalling his own. “For that little incident just now, in the hall. The way I spoke to you.” Harry’s confusion grew even more. Yes, his old professor has been a little harsh to publicly embarrass him like that, but he _ was _ kind of asking for it. He had, after all, slept through all the chaos, which had largely been his own fault, and left everybody else to pick up the pieces. “After everything you’ve been through. After everything you’ve done for us.” He may have been mistaken, but Harry could swear he heard a hint of pride in her voice as she spoke. “It was wrong of me to get so angry with you for disappearing - _ obviously_ you would need some rest after everything - ”

“Honestly, Professor, it’s fine,” Harry interrupted, his cheeks blushing with embarrassment. “It was my bad, honestly - ”

She waved a hand to silence him. “No, Potter. The fault is mine. It’s just - the last day or so has been _ stressful_, to put it simply. The school’s got enough to be dealing with in the aftermath of everything, so the last thing I need is the added stress of having the ministry pestering me constantly, asking me where on earth you are.”

Harry was too busy about to apologise for his absence once again to question her on that last point. Hermione, however, seemed to have noticed something that he hadn’t. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her immediately pull that face she always pulled when she was curious or about to question something, and before he had a chance to open his mouth, she had already beaten him to it. 

“_The ministry?” _she asked, her tone a mixture of curiosity and alarm. “What do they need Harry for?” 

McGonagall looked down for a second, unable to meet either of their eyes. She looked sad. Troubled.

Harry felt his stomach sink. Clearly there was something she didn’t want to tell them.

“Professor?”

McGonagall looked up, seemingly regaining some composure. 

“Don’t worry!” was the first thing she said. “Nobody’s in any danger. Nobody’s in any trouble either. I’m sorry if I made it seem that way. I didn’t mean to cause any panic.”

Harry was somewhat relieved to hear that, but at the same time he was starting to become just a little bit annoyed. Couldn’t she just hurry up and spit it out? 

“Professor,” he said, using all the willpower he had to keep himself from raising his voice. “Please, just tell us. _ What do the ministry want with me?” _

McGonagall sighed. “It - it’s about Teddy. Remus and Tonks’ son.”

Whatever Harry thought, in the back of his mind, that she was going to say, this was not it.

He felt his stomach drop.

“_Teddy? _What do you mean? Is he okay?”

He held his breath, waiting for McGonagall to respond. 

She waved her hands frantically. “Yes, yes, don’t worry! He’s fine. Safe and happy.”

_Thank god, _he thought, releasing the breath he’d been holding. It didn’t take long however for the panic to be replaced with confusion once again. “But, if he’s not hurt or anything, then what’s wrong?”

“Well, there’s a little bit of a difficult situation, Harry,” she began. 

“Go on…”

“As I’m sure you’re aware, we unfortunately lost both Remus and Tonks the other night.”

Harry felt the voice of the demon in the back of his head appearing once again, _ (it’s all your fault Harry, your fault they’re dead), _but he suppressed the urge to listen to it, just for a moment. He needed to concentrate on McGonagall right now.

“Yes, Professor, I am aware of that,” he replied, using all the strength he could muster to hold back the tears.

“And as I’m sure you’re also probably aware, before they both died they made it quite clear that in the event of their deaths, custody of their son was to be given to her mother, Andromeda.”

Harry paused. He didn’t remember hearing either Remus or Tonks ever really discuss their plans for after their deaths, nor had he ever asked them. He had always just operated under the assumption that none of his close friends ever _ would _die. How would he have maintained his motivation to defeat Voldemort otherwise? But it made sense. Of course they would want Tonks’ mother to be responsible for Teddy.

“Yes,” he answered.

McGonagall sighed. “Only… only, Andromeda is dead.”

Harry froze. Beside him, Hermione let out a shocked whimper and brought her hand up to cover her mouth.

“What?”

“She’s dead. They found her body yesterday evening.”

“What do you mean she’s dead? What happened?”

“Well, I say they found her body. What I really mean is they found _ bits _ of her body,” McGonagall winced. She looked as though she could barely bring herself to say what she was about to say. “So many people died that after the battle we didn’t have enough volunteers to go round and inform people in person that their loved ones had died. So we had to publish a list. A list of the dead. They - they think that when Andromeda saw her daughter’s name on that list, she tried to disapparate to Hogwarts. But she was probably _ distraught_, I mean, can you imagine? Her mind must have been all over the place. That poor, poor woman.”

“Anyway,” she continued, clearly bracing herself for the worst part of the story that was yet to come. “She was in no fit state to focus on _ anything_, yet alone try to _ apparate. _But she did. And when she did, she lost focus, and she splinched herself. Into thirty-seven different pieces.”

Harry felt like he might throw up. The images that he had in his head were not pretty. _ Thirty-seven pieces. _ He had heard a few horror stories in the past of witches and wizards who had tried to apparate and it had gone badly wrong. People losing limbs, people splitting themselves in half. All sorts. But never before had he heard anything _ that _ awful. That _ gruesome. _

He remembered what it had been like a few months ago, when Ron had got himself splinched while they were trying to escape the ministry. He remembered how much pain his friend had been in and how long it had taken him to recover. And that was only a _minor_ splinch in comparison. Just a bit of his arm left behind. But _thirty-seven _pieces? How was that even _possible?_

“So,” he said, gulping back the vomit that had risen in his throat as he spoke. “If Andromeda’s dead then - then who’s looking after Teddy?”

At that point, McGonagall reached down for her drawer, pulling out what appeared to be a pile of paperwork. 

“Somebody from the Order has been looking after him temporarily while a more permanent arrangement can be made, but the thing is, the boy doesn’t have a single other living relative. Not one. So, technically, at the moment, his legal guardian is the only other person known to have any kind of official connection to the child.”

“Okay…” Harry mumbled, not understanding where she was going with this. “And who might that be?”

McGonagall looked at him expectantly, as though Harry was supposed to be reacting in a certain way. But even at this point, he hadn’t yet joined the dots in his head. 

When he didn’t respond, Hermione filled the silence for him. It was the first time she had spoken for some time now. He had almost forgotten she was there. 

“Oh, Harry, don’t you see?” she practically whispered to him. “It’s _ you. You’re _ his legal guardian now. Remus and Tonks made _ you _his godfather.”

Even once she had said it, Harry’s brain still seemed to be having problems translating her words. He looked from her, to McGonagall, and back to her again, not sure how to respond. And when he did, his response shocked both of the two very serious women in the room. He _ laughed. _

“Don’t be ridiculous!” he managed to get out between giggles. But as the seconds went on, and the dots joined more and more in his brain, his denial that had manifested itself as amusement turned very quickly to panic. “I - I can’t be a - a _ father! _ Or a _ guardian - _or whatever it is you’re saying I am! I’m Harry - just Harry! I’m only seventeen! I’m not even an adult, for God’s sake!”

“What on earth are you talking about, Potter?” McGonagall asked, although Harry couldn’t work out whether her tone was sympathetic, angry, or confused. Perhaps all three. He couldn’t, for the life of him though, work out what _ she _had to be confused about. 

Once again though, Hermione seemed to have understood. 

“Oh, Harry,” she said sadly. “Remember, this is the wizarding world, not the muggle world. You’re seventeen. So that means that here, you _ are _ technically an adult. I know you don’t feel old enough to have that kind of responsibility yet but legally, you _ can _be somebody’s guardian.”

“But I - I’m not ready for that kind of thing, Hermione! I mean - what do _ I _ know about _ parenting_? I don’t even _ have _parents!”

“Well, no one’s expecting you to know anything, Potter,” McGonagall piped in. “You’re only a teenager. Nobody’s actually expecting _ you _to be the child’s guardian. It’s just that at the moment, that’s what you technically are, legally. So even though nobody’s asking you to be the boy’s guardian yourself, you’re the one who’s got to approve whoever will be and sign all the forms.” She patted the stack of paperwork on her desk. “That’s what all this is about. The ministry’s found a wizarding couple who are happy to adopt him. You can read through the file if you want. It’s got everything you need to know about them. I’ve been told they’re both lovely. And then, when you’re ready, all you have to do is sign.”

She pushed forward the papers on the desk and cautiously, he started to flick through them. On the very first page, there was a picture. A couple, both probably in their early thirties, smiling and waving up at him. The man looked happy and had his arm wrapped lovingly around the woman, who was pretty and friendly-looking. Harry couldn’t help but think they looked exactly like the stereotypical ‘happy family’ you would see on the front cover of magazines, the kind Aunt Petunia used to read.

_Angus and Petronella Clement - _those were their names. Both half-blood. Both lived in some wizarding village somewhere in the Cotswolds. Both had stable jobs, her in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and him, a healer at St Mungo’s. Apparently, they had always wanted to have children of their own, but were unable to, and due to the low birth rate in the wizarding world, the opportunity to adopt had simply never arisen. This was their best chance.

He didn’t know why he was doing it, but Harry searched and searched for anything in the file that was potentially cause for concern, any reason at all why they should not adopt his godson. But he couldn’t. They looked exactly like the kind of people who _ should _be parents. The type he himself wished he had had in his own life. These people could clearly provide Teddy with a life that he, just Harry, could never. They could provide him with love and stability and patience and wisdom that Harry, at his young age, did not have and - 

“No.”

Both Hermione and McGonagall looked up at him in shock.

“Potter? What do you mean ‘no’?”

“I mean ‘no’. I won’t sign that form,” he replied, simply and bluntly.

“But you - you’ve _ got _ to, Potter. Nobody else is allowed to. Unless you sign it, the child won’t be able to be adopted.”

Once again, McGonagall looked completely perplexed. As far as Harry was concerned however, there was nothing to be perplexed about. 

“You don’t understand me, Professor,” he went on, tone completely and utterly serious. “I am not going to sign that form, because _ I _am going to adopt Teddy.”

She gave him a lost and incredulous look. “You can’t be serious, Potter!”

That comment had his blood boiling.

“What am I not being serious about exactly?” he snapped. “I’m adopting that baby!”

Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder gently. “Harry,” she said. “I know this might be something you feel strongly about. You have an emotional connection to this whole thing after all, what with Teddy being your godson and Remus and Tonks being dead and all that, but I really think you ought to think this through _ very _ carefully. This is not the kind of decision you should be making impulsively.” 

Her voice was soft and patient. Evidently she was just trying to be sympathetic and understanding with him. But that’s not how Harry interpreted it. All he heard was her _ patronising _ him. _ Making decisions ‘impulsively’? Is that what she thought he was doing? _

“I _ have _ thought this through Hermione!” he half-yelled at her. She jumped back, startled, removing her hand from his shoulder in a heartbeat. “Look, _ I’m _his godfather and what I say goes! I’m going to look after him myself.”

“But, Harry - ”

“No ‘buts’ Hermione! Remus and Tonks made _ me _ his godfather! Not bloody _ Argus, _ or whatever he’s called! God knows why, but they clearly wanted _ me _ to look out for him. They trusted me. And I have to honour that. I - I - look, I know it sounds crazy, but I _ have _ to do this. I just _ have _ to. _ Please. _”

He didn’t know why he felt quite so strongly about this. Although he wouldn’t admit it, deep down he knew that Hermione was exactly right. He was being impulsive. Reckless, even. This couple, the Clements, sounded like they would be a much better option for Teddy, in almost every way possible. Harry was quite simply not ready to take on this much responsibility. He didn’t even have any N.E.W.T.S, yet alone a job. He didn’t have his own house (as far as he was concerned, Sirius’ old house was much too creepy to bring up a child in). He _ definitely _ did not have the maturity or experience to be someone’s _ guardian_. And yet despite all that, he just couldn’t imagine anybody other than himself taking care of Teddy.

Maybe it was the fact that Remus and Tonks had chosen to make _ him _ the godfather. Or maybe it was more deep than that. More personal. Perhaps it was because he himself had never got to grow up with his parents or his godparent. Yes, he had had the privilege of getting to know Sirius for two fantastic years, but sadly, their time together had been cut short. Much too short. 

He had always felt so alone as a child, so abandoned by everyone he loved. Even though he knew it was none of their faults, he had always felt almost left behind. And maybe, just maybe, if he could be there for Teddy, it would make up for all that. Maybe it would bring him some peace at last. Maybe it wouldn’t. But either way, one thing was clear to him: this was what he had to do.

He looked from his friend to his professor desperately, begging them with his eyes to understand. Hermione clearly didn’t know what else to say. She knew him well enough by now to know that once Harry’s heart was set on something, there was little anyone could do to talk him out of it. 

Hermione may have been lost for words, but McGonagall evidently still had some of her own. 

“Harry, please, listen to us,” she practically pleaded. “Do you understand the seriousness of what you’re saying? Miss Granger is right. You’re not… I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, Potter, but, well… I’ve known you for years now and to be honest with you, I’m not sure you’re ready for this level of responsibility.”

Harry saw red. 

“Are you seriously going to lecture _ me _ about _ responsibility_?!” He was properly yelling now. “Do you not think I’ve had to deal with that before? What about the responsibility of saving the _ entire world_?! Or had you forgotten about that?”

McGonagall slammed her finger down on the desk with force, pointing furiously at the paperwork in front of them. 

“This, Potter, is a completely different type of responsibility!” she shouted at him. “You cannot compare fighting a war with caring for a baby! It’s ridiculous!”

“Look, I can do it!” he snarled. “You don’t trust me? Fine! But I’m doing it and that’s that. And as you said before Professor, legally_, _I am already his guardian, so there’s nothing you can do to stop me. So, do I need to make it official? Are they any forms I have to sign to confirm I’m taking custody of him or what?”

McGonagall glared at him for an uncomfortably long time, furious, but defeated. 

“Very well,” she eventually said. “Have it your way. No, there are no forms you need to sign. As I said before, the boy has no living relatives and you are his godfather, so you get custody of him by default.” Her voice was starting to calm down now, and she sighed almost apologetically. “And for the record Potter, I do believe in you. You are without a doubt a very capable and good-hearted young man. But parenthood is not an easy task. Just, whatever you do, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

In hindsight, Harry would later come to realise that everything McGonagall had said to him was completely right. That instead of responding so immaturely and defensively, he should probably have put his ego aside for once and just listened to her.

But he didn’t. He did what he always did. He stayed in his rage and ignored the advice. 

“Right then,” he said, voice hard and serious. “If there’s nothing else to do, what are we waiting for?” 

He turned to Hermione. 

“Let’s go get my godson.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we are, I hope this wasn’t too bad and that you enjoyed it. I know we haven’t really got into all the good stuff yet in this first chapter but I promise there will be plenty of Harry/Teddy bonding and troubled Harry scenes coming up, starting next chapter. I have a few ideas for things I would like to happen later on in this fic and I am planning to make it fairly long, but I don’t know when it will be finished or how it will turn out. I might come up with some new or better ideas as I go along. I guess we’ll see! 
> 
> Anyways, thank you so much for reading if you made it to the end! I’m already working on the next chapter, so hopefully it shouldn’t be too long till I update!


	2. The Promise

Just a few days ago, Harry had been on the run. Harry James Potter: the most wanted man in the wizarding world. He had been hiding in a safe house, having narrowly escaped death at Malfoy Manor, and along with his friends, he had been planning how to break into the most secure and dangerous bank in the world. 

If you had asked him then where he thought he would be now, this was quite possibly the absolute last place he would have thought he would end up.

Harry was holding a baby. 

A real life, living, breathing baby. 

And not just any baby either. 

His godson. 

Who he was now completely responsible for.

Harry was peering down into Teddy’s face in wonder. It had been several minutes now, but he still hadn’t managed to bring himself to look away. There were butterflies fluttering furiously in his stomach as he stood there, frozen stiff as a statue, clutching his godson to his chest so cautiously you would have thought the bundle in his arms was some kind of unexploded bomb, not an infant.

It had all happened so fast. 

It couldn’t have been anymore than fifteen minutes ago that he had been sitting in McGonagall’s office. As soon as his professor had realised there was no point in continuing to try and reason with him, she had finally given in and told him where to go. As it turned out, the member of the Order who had been caring for Teddy overnight was actually somebody Harry had met before. It was Hestia Jones, the same witch he had last seen all those months ago at Privet Drive, when she had come to take the Dursleys into hiding.

Not wanting to hang about in McGonagall’s office any longer, Harry and Hermione had immediately taken the Floo Network directly to her house. They had been met there by a startled and extremely puzzled Hestia, who, understandably, wanted to know what the hell Harry Potter and some other random teenage witch were suddenly doing in her living room. 

It had taken a considerable amount of explaining (ninety percent of which had been done by Hermione as Harry had simply stood there looking gormless), but after an awful lot of convincing and a painful amount of sceptical looks from Hestia, the older woman had eventually given in. Reluctantly, she had handed him his godson, who was now sleeping peacefully in his arms.

Harry, however, was not nearly as calm as Teddy appeared to be.

For the past few minutes, he had only distantly been registering the voices of Hestia and Hermione engaging in polite conversation in the background. Something about the battle. Then something about the Dursleys. He didn’t really know. If he was honest, he wasn’t really listening. In that moment, all he could focus on was looking down at Teddy and trying to find the right word to describe this peculiar new sensation that he felt in his chest. Was it pride? Or was it terror?

To be honest, Harry was leaning slightly more towards the latter. From the very first second Teddy had been handed to him, his mind had been buzzing. In the last few minutes, he had contemplated every single dangerous scenario that could possibly occur. Every possible thing he could do wrong. Never before had he found himself wondering anything as ridiculous as what would happen if, for no reason at all, he just accidentally decided to let go and drop this baby. What would happen if he accidentally grabbed Teddy by the arm, swung him around like a lasso and lobbed him into the wall? 

Of course, he would never do that. _ Why _ would he do that? How was it even possible to _ accidentally _fling a child full-force across a room? It was completely ludicrous! But that was the kind of nonsensical crap that was going through his head right now. 

It may have been irrational, yes. But the anxiety it caused him felt _ very _ real. He was _ terrified _that he might do something to hurt Teddy. That even though it seemed stupid, he might well accidentally drop him. Come to think of it, that was probably why he was clutching the poor kid in such a vice-like grip.

Apparently no longer distracted by her conversation with Hermione, it didn’t take Hestia long to pick up on his discomfort. 

“Merlin’s beard, Harry, it wouldn’t kill you to relax a little!” she told him. “Anyone would think you’ve never held a baby before!”

She had meant it as a harmless joke, clearly, for she chuckled as she spoke and gave him a friendly pat on the back. Hermione laughed too. In fact, so did Harry. Although it wasn’t because he found the joke funny in any way. No. In truth, it was mainly just to cover up the shame that had suddenly swept over him.

What Hestia clearly didn’t realise was that actually, something she had meant purely as a humorous comment, was to Harry, completely true.

He _ hadn’t _ever held a baby before.

Those words echoed through his head. _ I haven’t even held a baby before. _The more times he repeated it to himself, the more pathetic it seemed. It wasn’t something that had ever even crossed his radar before, but now that he thought about it, it was actually kind of sad. How could he possibly have made it through nearly eighteen years of his life and never once held a single baby? 

It wasn’t like he had avoided it deliberately or anything. The opportunity had just simply never arisen. The Dursleys didn’t have any children other than Dudley, who was basically the same age as Harry, give or take a month or so. He remembered a few occasions on which the Dursleys had had friends round who had babies of their own. But none of them had ever trusted him in the same _ room _ as their children, yet alone trusted him to _ hold _them. Not with all the completely made-up horror stories the Dursleys would feed them about how evil and disturbed their nephew was.

For the first time since McGonagall had initially broken the news, doubts started to pop into his head. _ Could _ he do this? If he hadn’t even _ held _a baby before, what made him think he would be able to care for one full time?

_Oh god, _ he thought. _ Oh god, oh god, oh god! What have I done? What the hell have I gotten myself into? It’s only been a few minutes and I’m already freaking out! I can’t do this! I can’t - _

He stopped himself right there. Forced himself to remember why he had wanted to do this in the first place. This was for Teddy. Because even though he didn’t know it yet, Teddy needed him.

An unpleasant image popped into Harry’s head. One he would rather not have to think about. It was the image of a dark-haired boy, only a tiny little thing. He couldn’t have been any more than four years old, judging by the size of him, yet the pain and misery hidden within those brilliant emerald eyes was enough for a lifetime. He was alone in the darkness of the cupboard in which he lived. Left behind by those who had once loved him. Shunned by those who were supposed to love him in their place. He had no one.

Ever since he had first found himself a home in Hogwarts all those years ago, Harry had always made a conscious effort not to dwell too deeply on his time at the Dursleys. In fact, on the rare occasion that he did look back, he did so with a funny sort of emotional detachment. When he thought of that lonely little boy in the cupboard, he felt nothing. Nothing whatsoever. It was almost like he didn’t care. It didn’t even really feel like his own memory, rather just a blurry picture he had in his head. A picture for which he had no particular feelings. He didn’t let it bother him - because what would be the point?

What did bother him, however, was the thought of Teddy in the exact same position. Teddy had been left behind by his parents. He could not be now abandoned by his godfather too. Absolutely not. Harry had spent years completely alone in the belief that not a single soul in the world cared about him. No way in hell was he going to allow that to happen again. Especially not to his godson.

If he hadn’t already made up his mind back in McGonagall’s office, he had now.

He was going to do this.

It was a promise.

He felt a sudden jolt against his arm. Startled and in pain, he looked up to see Hermione giving him a death glare.

“Harry!” she hissed. “Wake up! Hestia’s talking to you! I’m so sorry about him, Hestia. He doesn’t mean to be rude. He just - he gets lost in thought sometimes.”

Harry turned to Hestia, mortified. “Shit,” he said. “I mean - I’m so sorry. I must have zoned out. Did I miss something?”

Hestia had looked annoyed and offended at first, but she seemed to have a change of heart quickly, for she laughed and waved her hand to brush off his apology. 

“No need to worry,” she said. “And no, you didn’t miss anything important. I was just wondering if I could get you anything. Cup of tea? Biscuit?”

Harry smiled politely. “No thanks. I’m fine right now.”

“Are you sure? I’ve got some leftover cake that I’m trying to get rid of.”

“That sounds great, but we best be off now anyway. I appreciate it though.”

He wasn’t lying exactly. He did appreciate the offer, and in normal circumstances he would have done the polite thing and stayed. At the moment, however, all he wanted was to take his godson and get the hell out of this house as soon as possible so he could go and find somewhere private to have a nervous breakdown about how unprepared for this whole thing he was.

“Oh. Okay then,” Hestia said, looking mildly offended. “I can go and get the rest of Teddy’s things then, if you’d like.”

“That would be great, thank you.”

She gave him a half-hearted smile and nodded before leaving the room. 

Now that they were finally alone, Harry turned to Hermione.

“So, where do you think we should go now then?” he asked. “I mean, the only place I could think of would be the Burrow, but we can’t exactly just rock up there with a baby and demand that they let us stay. Especially not when their brother’s just died.”

Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment. “What about Grimmauld Place?” she suggested. “The war’s over now, so it should be safe to go back there.”

Harry scoffed at that. “You’re having a laugh! I’m not taking Teddy _ there_! The whole place is like a bloody haunted house!”

Hermione laughed slightly. “Yeah, I guess it’s not exactly the most child-friendly place in the world. But it’s not like he’s going to be scared of ghosts or anything. I mean, he’s only a few weeks old. And it will only be temporary. Just until you can find somewhere else to go.”

“And how exactly do you plan on getting there? Apparating with a baby probably isn’t the best idea, is it? Not unless we want to make him really sick.”

She paused to consider that for a moment. “We’re in London right now aren’t we? This house is in London, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. At least I think that’s what McGonagall said.”

“Well, we could always walk then. Or get the Tube.” She reached for her beaded bag and started to dig through it. “I think I’ve got some muggle money left in here somewhere.”

Harry still wasn’t convinced. “I don’t know, Hermione… the place gives me the creeps. And who’s to say they didn’t completely wreck it after Yaxley found out about it?”

“True. They might well have done. But we may as well try it. Have you got any better ideas?”

“No,” he admitted.

“Well that’s settled then. Grimmauld Place it is.”

Before Harry could argue, he heard the sound of footsteps approaching and Hestia reappeared in the doorway, a small duffle bag and a baby basket in her arms. 

“This is everything, I’m afraid,” she sighed as she handed the bag and the basket over to Hermione (Harry still had his hands full with Teddy, who was still soundlessly asleep). “When I went to the house last night I just grabbed a few bits and bobs that I thought he might need. I think there are plans to go through the rest of Remus and Tonks’ stuff at some point. I don’t know much about that though. You’ll have to ask McGonagall. She’ll probably know what’s going on with that.” She turned to Harry. “So, what do you plan to do now then? Forgive me, it’s just - if I’m completely honest, I don’t really like the idea of you going off alone with him. You’re just so _ young_. Not that I don’t trust you or anything, I just - I just want to make sure you know what you’re doing and where you’re going.”

Harry hesitated and looked at Hermione for reassurance. “Um, well, we thought we would take him back to Sirius’ old house until we can find somewhere more permanent. He left it to me when he died, you see, so I own it now.”

“And how are you getting there? Because it’s not safe to apparate with very young children, you know.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that, funnily enough.” 

He realised immediately how rude that may have sounded and tried to move on as quickly as possible. “We’re going to get the Tube and walk instead,” he said. “It’s all good.”

“The Tube?” she repeated curiously.

“It’s a type of muggle transport. Like an underground train,” he elaborated when she still looked unsure. “I assure you it’s perfectly safe for a baby.”

Harry’s answer seemed to have been satisfactory, but she still proceeded to look him up and down for a moment, apparently trying to decide whether or not she trusted him not to get this baby lost or killed somehow. “Very well. If you must be off now, then I wish you luck, Mr Potter.”

Thank God for that. Harry didn’t know how much longer he would be able to maintain this false confidence that he was trying to give off if Hestia continued her relentless questioning any further.

“Thank you so much for taking care of him, Ms. Jones,” he said, as he and Hermione started to awkwardly edge towards the front door. “I appreciate it. I really do.”

Hestia nodded and smiled at him once again. “Any time,” she said, her hand reaching for the door handle to let them out. The door swung open and the two teens stepped out into the busy London street. They politely said their goodbyes and were just about to set off on their ways, when a voice shouted for them to come back.

“Just one more thing,” Hestia called. “I just wanted to say, Harry… thank you. Thank you for defeating him. Thanks to you, generations of young wizards and witches to come - and that includes Teddy - will never have to grow up in fear. So thank you.”

Once again, Harry forced himself to fake a smile. Forced himself to hide his discomfort. He was starting to get used to this by now. 

“You’re welcome,” was all he said.

And with that, he turned away. With his sleeping godson still in his arms, he headed out into the city.

* * *

A solid hour or so had now passed since their departure from Hestia Jones’ house. The journey across London had actually been surprisingly painless. No one recognised him. No one came up to congratulate him. No Death Eaters came to murder him, as they had the last time he had been wandering the city. The closest they had come to any real drama was a few judgemental looks when they had to cram the baby basket into the busy Tube carriage with them. Apart from that however, nobody bat an eyelid. And somehow, they had managed not to wake Teddy up the whole time. Everything felt strange. Normal. 

_Normality_. That was something Harry hadn’t felt in a while.

Their brief venture into the muggle world didn’t last long however. Before they knew it, they found themselves stood in the dingy front hall of Number 12 Grimmauld Place once again.

At a first glance, the house appeared exactly the same as they’d left it. Perhaps Yaxley hadn’t been able to get in after all. It was plausible, given how many measures had been taken to ensure the safety of the Order’s headquarters. Nevertheless, they weren’t prepared to take any chances. Cautiously, the two friends crept down the hall, wands out and ready incase any traps had been left behind for them since they were forced to abandon the house all those months ago. 

“Is anyone there?” Hermione called out hesitantly as they edged further and further down the corridor. Big mistake.

In all their efforts to avoid traps, they had broken the first and most basic rule of Grimmauld Place: do not, whatever you do, wake that fucking portrait.

“MUDBLOOD! MUDBLOOD IN THE HOUSE! DIRTY, MUDBLOOD SCUM!”

In a desperate attempt to stop Mrs Black’s screaming, Harry ushered Hermione through the corridor and downstairs to the kitchen at lightning speed. But it was too late. The damage was already done. Teddy was awake.

Harry and Hermione spent the best part of the next hour and fifteen minutes trying everything they could possibly think of to get the baby to stop crying. 

“Okay, okay,” Hermione said, after twenty minutes of rocking him back and forward had failed. “Maybe it would help if we went through this like a checklist. What are some things that babies need? Let’s see… does he need his nappy changing?”

They checked that. No.

“Okay, so it’s not that. Then what next? Is he tired?”

“How can he _ possibly _ be tired?!” Harry snapped. “He’s been asleep the whole bloody way over here!”

“Alright, calm down!” She was becoming more and more flustered now. “I don’t know how much sleep babies need!”

“I thought you were meant to know _ everything_!”

“I know lots of things about _ books _ and _ spells _ and - and things like that! Not about _ babies_!

Harry immediately felt bad. He was in no place to be getting annoyed with her. Not when he had no clue what he was doing either. If anything, he should have been thanking Hermione for staying with him to help. Teddy was _ his _ responsibility now, after all. Not hers.

“Maybe he’s hungry,” she said. Then something appeared to dawn on her. “Oh God, Harry - do we even have any milk for him?”

“Shit,” Harry muttered. He hadn’t even thought about that. 

“Um, I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe Hestia packed some in his bag. Go and check.”

Without hesitation, Hermione leapt up and darted across to the corner of the room, where the small duffle bag had been dumped. It didn’t take her long to ransack its contents completely. There didn’t seem to be much in there anyway. 

“The good news is,” she said, waving the bottle she had just found. “I’ve found some. Hestia must have left us some to take on the journey and forgotten to tell us.”

“Phew!” exclaimed Harry. “And what’s the bad news?”

“That there’s only one bottle. So we’re going to have to get some more from somewhere. Or make it ourselves, if that’s what you’re meant to do. To be honest, I don’t really know how these things work. I didn’t exactly think I’d find myself having to know any of this stuff anytime soon.”

“Neither,” Harry laughed half-heartedly. The whole situation was just so surreal that he wasn’t even sure if it had sunk in fully yet. “Anyway, hurry up and chuck it over. I swear to God, Hermione, this better work. ‘Cause if it doesn’t, I don’t have any other ideas.”

As he had asked, Hermione handed it over. 

“Come on. Please work. Please just drink it,” he pleaded as he popped off the lid and held the bottle towards his godson’s mouth. “Come on Teddy. Aren’t you hungry?”

Teddy took just one little sip before turning away and shaking his head. The wailing continued.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Harry exclaimed, dropping his head back and staring up at the ceiling in desperation. He was starting to lose patience already. “What do you want Teddy? Come on, you’ve got to help me out here mate. Give me a sign or something.” He paused hopefully. Nothing. Just more screaming. “Ugh! Hermione - any more ideas?”

“I don’t know either, Harry,” she said, equally as frustrated. “Maybe you could try singing to him or something.”

Harry pulled a judgemental face, as though that was the stupidest thing he had ever heard. “What am I meant to sing to him exactly?”

“I don’t know!” Hermione snapped. “Just sing him a nursery rhyme or something!”

“I don’t really know any nursery rhymes.”

Harry thought that would’ve been obvious. The Dursleys had barely _fed_ him as a child, yet alone sung nursery rhymes or lullabies to him.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous! How can you not not know any nursery rhymes?”

He shrugged and looked down at the floor. Hermione picked up on this and sighed apologetically. 

“You’re not lying, are you? You actually don’t know any.” She paused thoughtfully for a moment. “Well, you can always just make up your own. Just sing anything. It’s not like he’s going to understand what you’re saying anyway.”

For a moment, Harry wasn’t going to do it. No way was he actually going to try and _sing_ to a baby. This was all so humiliating. If Ron ever found out about this, Harry was never going to hear the end of it. But it was at the point now where he was desperate. He had no other ideas. And so he began.

“_Hush little Teddy, don’t you cry,” _ he began awkwardly, the little voice in the back of his head begging him to stop himself. (_Oh, nobody must ever know about this!_) “_Because if you don’t… I might also cry_.” (_Nice one, Harry, you should be a fucking poet!) “So please, please, please just go to sleep - ” _

He stopped. “Fuck this, Hermione,” he moaned, cheeks bright red. “I’m just embarrassing myself and - ”

“Shhhhhhh!” Hermione screeched. He swung his head up at her in surprise. For some reason, she seemed to have had a _ major _change in mood from where she had been just a few seconds ago. Now, she looked as though she could hardly contain her excitement. “Listen!”

Harry did as he was told and shut up for a second. He was confused. What was he meant to be listening for exactly? He couldn’t hear anything but silence. What was Hermione on about?

It was then that it hit him. _ He couldn’t hear anything but silence. _That could only mean one thing. He glanced down at his godson, who was now looking up at him curiously. 

The crying had stopped.

“Oh my God!” Harry muttered, shocked. “Don’t tell me that actually worked!”

Hermione looked at him. For a second, her face was blank, although she seemed to be in as much disbelief as he was himself. Eventually, however, she couldn’t hold it anymore. Her face suddenly creased, and she burst out laughing.

“What?” Harry asked, exasperated. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” she giggled hysterically. “It’s just - we try for over an hour to get him to stop crying - and nothing works - ” Harry could barely understand a word she was saying amongst all the wheezing. “But then you start singing possibly _ the worst _ lullaby ever sung - and - and the poor baby is so confused that he just - _ stops_! Oh, that is hilarious!”

Harry scowled at her. “Oh, shut up! Stop laughing at me! It’s not funny!” 

He was trying his hardest to act annoyed, his stubbornness not wanting to admit defeat. As he watched his friend gasping for air and absolutely wetting herself laughing however, he realised she was right. It _ was _actually pretty funny. Eventually, his efforts to keep his frown going failed. His face creased into a smile as Hermione’s had done, and before he knew it, he was laughing with her.

* * *

After that ‘dreadful singing incident’, as Harry was now referring to it, Teddy didn’t cry for several hours. For a while, he had continued to stare up at his godfather with that same look of curiosity and confusion that had both Harry and Hermione dying for quite some time. Harry could swear he heard somewhere that babies don’t really start communicating socially that much until they are a couple of months old, but with the way his godson was watching him so intently, he was sure that couldn’t possibly be true.

Eventually however, Teddy had seemingly grown bored of gazing at Harry’s pretty dull face and had drifted off to sleep. Not wanting a repeat of earlier’s screaming fiasco, Harry had been too scared to even _ breathe _ too heavily for a good half an hour for fear of waking him again. Only once he was absolutely certain that the coast was clear did he finally decide to gently sit up and carry the sleeping boy over to his basket. He sighed in relief when Teddy didn’t stir.

Harry and Hermione had decided to use the opportunity to have some lunch. For the whole morning, he had had Teddy as a distraction. Before that, he had had the battle. Now that Teddy was out of the way for a while however, Harry realised just how hungry he really was. Come to think of it, the last time he had eaten anything had been the food Aberforth had provided them with at the Hog’s Head Inn just hours before the battle had begun. That was now nearly _ two days _ago. 

_Wow, _he thought. Two days had passed already? It didn’t feel like it. The horrors still felt as fresh in his mind as they had done at the time.

Yesterday morning, after the battle, there had been people in the Great Hall offering cups of tea and toast to the survivors, so in hindsight, he probably should have eaten then. But at the time, he couldn’t. Maybe it was the horror and guilt after everything that he had seen that night - maybe it was simply just the adrenaline rush of it all - Harry didn’t know. But either way, he knew that anything he would’ve eaten then would’ve come straight back up immediately. So instead, he had opted to just go hungry.

Now, however, he was starving, so despite Hermione’s objections (she still seemed to feel strongly about all this house elf rights stuff), Harry had summoned Kreacher and got him to make the two of them a nice home-made steak and kidney pie, which he thought would be nice as that had been the dish Kreacher had been preparing for them the day they went off to the ministry and never returned. Between the two of them, they had absolutely wolfed it down in no time. 

Only when the pie was nearly gone did Hermione finally bring up something that she seemed to have been holding in for the whole meal, waiting for the right moment. Once she realised they were nearly finished, however, she seemingly decided that it was now or never.

“I was thinking,” she mumbled timidly, as Harry scraped the last bit of pie off his plate. “We’ve been here for hours now, looking after a baby and eating pie, and nobody knows where we are. We’ve basically just dropped off the grid completely at this point…”

Harry stopped what he was doing immediately. He put his fork back down on his plate, pie still on it.

“Where are you going with this, Hermione?”

“It’s just - I’m starting to worry. About Ron. And the others too.”

Harry couldn’t believe her. “What do you mean you’re ‘starting to worry’? Fred’s just died! Obviously they’re not going to be okay about that for a very long time - if they ever are! What do you expect? That they’re all gonna just be fine again straight away?”

Hermione looked extremely hurt. “Of course not! That’s - that’s not what I meant at all, Harry. That’s not what I was talking about.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“It’s just - the last time I spoke to them was when they left Hogwarts yesterday evening. A few hours after you disappeared without telling anyone to go off and hibernate in your dormitory. I told them I would go and have a little nap myself and stay until you woke up. I said we’d probably join them at the Burrow in a few hours. But it’s now _ afternoon _a whole day later, Harry! We’ve been hiding out here, completely cut-off from the outside world, caring for a baby, which you have somehow ended up with since the last time we saw them, and this whole time we haven’t even bothered to tell them where we are. They’re probably wondering what the hell we’re doing and why we still haven’t shown up almost a day after we said we would, with no explanation. Ron probably thinks we’ve gone off and abandoned him when he needs us most. Can you not see how rude that is?”

“So, what are you suggesting that we do? Go to the Burrow now? With Teddy?”

Hermione looked up at him. “Well… _ yes. _” 

“Don’t be stupid! You know we can’t do that to them right now. They need peace and quiet for a while.”

“I know that Harry, but - I mean - we can’t just hide Teddy from them _ forever_, can we? They’re going to find out eventually anyway. And even if we forget about Teddy for a minute, we can’t just keep avoiding them. It’s getting ruder and ruder the longer we stay here. You know what Ron’s like! He’s going to start thinking we don’t care.”

Harry felt as though a bubble had been burst for him. For the last twenty-four hours or so, it had been easy for him to deny everything, to push everything that had happened to the back of his mind. First, he had been asleep for eighteen hours and then, pretty much as soon as he had woken up, he had the pretty big shock of suddenly becoming a parent somehow to distract him from everything. 

In the time he had spent with Hermione and Teddy today, it was almost as though he had been existing in some strange parallel world, one where none of the previous night had happened, and although trying to work out how to care for Teddy had been stressful, to say the least, it was better. Better than the alternative. Better than going back to the real world.

If Harry went to the Burrow, that would all be over. When he would get there, it would be full of people he loved mourning. His best friend, his girlfriend - all of them had been left devastated by the battle. The battle that he had caused. 

Harry had been telling Hermione that the reason he didn’t want to go there was that he didn’t want Teddy to be a problem. Yes, that may have been true, but it wasn’t the real reason he was so desperate to avoid the place.

The real reason was that he didn’t think he could face Ron and Ginny.

He didn’t think he could bare to ever look either of them in the eye again. 

Not after the pain he had put them through.

So he made the decision. He wouldn’t go.

“Look,” he said to Hermione. “I can’t take Teddy there. It’s just not fair. But you’re right - we can’t just keep avoiding them with no explanation. So _ you _ go. Go and check up on them all and explain the whole Teddy situation as well if you want. I’ll stay here.”

“Are you serious? Come on, Harry, you can’t avoid them forever. They’ll want to see you, you know.”

That comment made Harry wince. Why would they possibly want to see him again after everything?

“I’m not going, Hermione,” he told her, very matter-of-factly. “Just explain the situation to them and I’m sure they’ll be fine with it.”

Hermione looked torn. “I don’t know, Harry… Oh, alright then. But promise me you’ll be okay on your own.”

“I’ll be fine. I promise.”

“Okay. I tell you what, how about I just go for a few hours? I’ll just go and visit them for a bit and then I’ll come back here for dinner. That way if Teddy starts crying again or something you won’t be on your own for too long.”

“No you don’t have to do that, I’ll be - ”

“I’m coming back for dinner,” she interrupted. “It’s decided.”

Harry wasn’t going to bother arguing.

“Well I guess I’ll see you then,” he said.

Hermione left just minutes later.

“No point in wasting anymore time,” she said.

Harry saw her out, or rather he watched her step into the dusty kitchen fireplace as she prepared to take the Floo Network to the Burrow. They said their goodbyes, Hermione promised to be back in time for dinner one last time, and with that, there was a flash of green flames and she was gone.

Harry sighed. It had been nice to have Hermione’s company as he tried to navigate through this crazy new situation for the first time. He didn’t know how he would’ve got through the day so far without her. But now she was gone. He was alone.

He walked across the room to the baby basket where his godson lay. He stood there for a second, watching Teddy’s chest rise and fall with each breath he took. He liked watching him sleep. Not in a creepy way (Harry realised that sounded a bit weird when he said it back to himself). No - it was just that it reassured him, seeing the kid breathe. Reassured him that he was okay.

In fact, Harry was so fixated on watching him breathing that he hadn’t looked up at the kid’s face this whole time. When he did, he nearly had a heart attack. 

Teddy had changed since the last time he had checked on him. Ever since he had first held him at Hestia’s house that morning, Harry had thought he looked a lot like Remus. He had brown hair, Remus’ nose, almost _ everything _about the kid just screamed ‘Remus’ son’ to Harry. 

Now, however, he was different. His face was the same as before, but his hair appeared to have changed colour. Whereas before, it had been light brown, now it had darkened considerably, to the point where it was black. Almost jet black. Pretty much the same exact shade as Harry’s. 

Was that a coincidence? Harry knew that Teddy was a Metamorphmagus, yes - but that didn’t mean he knew anything about the ability. Was it random when Teddy changed his hair colour, or had he changed it specifically to match Harry’s? Because if he had, Harry wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Yes, it was kind of adorable, but at the same time, he wanted Teddy to carry on looking like Remus, not like him. Because that was the way it should be. 

Harry may have been determined to be there for this child as the closest thing Teddy had to a father, but he _ wasn’t _ Teddy’s father - Remus was. And even though Remus may not have been there anymore, Harry didn’t want to take that away from him. All he wanted was to be a decent substitute - not a replacement.

Feeling that Teddy was probably going to be out of it for quite a while yet, Harry decided to pull up a chair. It seemed a little bit pointless, just sitting there doing nothing and waiting for the baby to wake up, but it wasn’t exactly like he had anything better to do. Besides, with Hermione now gone, Teddy was the only company he had, and there was something strangely soothing about having him there beside him.

Harry closed his eyes - not to go to sleep or anything (he didn’t think he would be needing anymore sleep for a long time after his whopper of a nap the previous night) - but just to think to himself. To go through the events of the previous few days and maybe, if he could, start processing it all. 

_Jeez, _he thought as his mind started buzzing and his heart rate sped up as once again, he thought of all the deaths he had caused. _This__ is gonna take some time. _

* * *

Fortunately, Harry didn’t have enough time to psych himself up into a mental breakdown too much. He was jolted out of his thoughts with force when a sudden and almighty crash filled the kitchen. No - it wasn’t a crash. It was the sound of somebody arriving in the fireplace.

Despite nearly jumping out of his skin at first, Harry didn’t open his eyes straight away. It must have just been Hermione. Who else would it be? Yes, she had only just left, but she had probably just forgotten something and come back for it. Harry wasn’t worried.

He did become worried, however, when he called out to her and got no response.

“Back already?” he asked, eyes still closed. “Did you miss me that much?”

No reply.

For a second, he thought maybe he was imagining things and the sound he had heard hadn’t come from the fireplace at all. Perhaps something had simply fallen off a shelf or something and he had mistaken it for the sound of the Floo Network in action. It seemed unlikely, as the two sounds were completely different, but he couldn’t think of any other explanation, so that was what he settled on.

And then he heard the footsteps coming towards him.

His alarm bells were going off now. Somebody was in the room with him. And it wasn’t Hermione.

In a panicked frenzy, Harry jerked his eyes open, yanked Teddy out of the basket and up into his arms, and jumped back towards the wall in a heartbeat. Absolutely no way in hell was this person, whoever they were, coming anywhere near his godson. Not on his watch.

And then he saw who it was, and he was both relieved and even more terrified at the same time.

Mrs Weasley looked more stern than he had ever seen her as she took steps closer and closer towards him. More stern than she had been with her own sons the first time Harry had met her properly, when they had stolen the flying car to rescue him. More stern than she had been when she had sent that howler to Ron. 

Harry didn’t have a clue what she was doing here, but whatever it was, she meant business. Harry had never been so scared of a middle-aged woman in his life. 

“I think you’ve got some explaining to do,” she said, pointing her finger at him viciously. “What on earth do you think you’re playing at?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT (December 2019):  
Hi guys, I know it’s been quite a while since this fic was updated and I apologise if there was anyone out there who was enjoying it and wanted more. It’s been a really crazy few months with so much going on, so finding the time and motivation to write has been difficult. Just wanted to let you know that this story has NOT been abandoned. There are parts of it that have been written already and I hope to post at some point in the future. I’ve considered taking the story down for a while now as it’s been really annoying me how it’s just sitting here incomplete, but I thought I’d leave it up just on the off chance that someone might still want to read it. Just know that I haven’t forgotten about this story, I will hopefully update it again once things have calmed down, and if you have enjoyed the first two chapters, I would still love to know what you thought :)


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